Art's getting fishy in Fukuoka....

Hello, Compendium readers!

WR here, writing from warm and lovely Kyushu.  I hope all you northern-hemispherites are enjoying the spring as much as I am.  For anyone living in Japan, it's especially important for us to embrace the mild beauty of this season.  Because we know what's coming.  1.)  Rainy season; a soppy, wet, mold-spawning realm of hell.  And then, 2.)  Japanese summer; Hell.  Just plain hell.

But for now, the morning breezes still hold a chill and the sunshine is warm on my all-too-pale winterized skin.  It's a pleasant time to get out in the world and see some sights...

... like an art museum or two!

Recently, I've been trying to visit more of the local cultural attractions here in Fukuoka.  I started with the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum, located in central Fukuoka City.  It's a lovely, if small, museum at the top of the swanky Riverain shopping complex in the Nakasu-Kawabata area.  It focuses mainly on modern art from artists in China, Taiwan, the Philippines, Thailand, Vietnam, etc.

They generously allow visitors to take non-flash photography, so here are a few photos of some my favorite pieces from my leisurely stroll through the galleries.

This next one (below) needs a little explanation, I think.  There were two pieces in one corner of a gallery which were displayed as "found art."  They're retired molds for Buddhist sculptures, elevated on pikes so that visitors can duck inside and look up.  In the picture directly below, if you look closely, you can see the rough shape of a full-body, seated Buddha.  The other mold (not shown from the outside) is of a very large Buddha head.  That's the second picture below, taken from inside.

It was a strangely serene experience, standing inside the mold.  There was a faint herbal smell to it, and sounds from the outside took on an distant, echoey tone.

All in all, I highly recommend the Fukuoka Asian Art museum to local tourists.  And with a ticket price of only 200 yen (at the time of my visit, at least), it really can't be beat for a few hour's pleasant distraction.

In keeping with the art theme, let's flash-forward to today's visit: the Art Aquarium.  This installation, currently being shown at Hakata Station, is a combination of goldfish, aquarium design, and art.  While I think arguments could definitely be made that the fish are not being kept in the best of situations, what with the high stress environment (lights and music and a constant stream of people), I will say that the tanks were all meticulously clean and well-kept, and the fish seemed pretty healthy to me; a not-at-all-an-expert-in-fish outside observer.

So.  That aside, I thought the exhibition was gorgeous.  Stunningly so.  There was a shocking simplicity and organic beauty to it all, like watching a canvas paint itself before your eyes.  Here are a few of my favorite photos from my tour.

The triangle piece is a kaleidoscope, one of dozens installed into the tank.
Pretty darn magical, really.

A still from a short film, projected onto a screen
behind a long and flat tank.  Also magical.

That guy has my same camera!

Since pictures can't really capture the feeling of the place, I thought I'd upload a short video of the signature piece (the over-sized goldfish bowl from above). 

As you can tell, I'm really, reeeeeeally enjoying my new camera.  (Thanks, DW!  Hugs!  Kisses!)  I hope you enjoyed the the blog post this week and maybe it'll inspire you to go out and find some art in your own town, wherever that may be.

Thanks for reading and don't forget to feed the fish!
(The digital ones that live at the top of the blog page, not the ones in the photos.)

WR.

On Earthquakes and Barrel Openings.

Welcome back, readers!

That's right!  It's WR, again.  Things have been pretty good in Japan!  The weather has finally started to warm a bit, allowing for the much-awaited explosion of sakura (cherry blossom) celebrations everywhere. But, for this week's RowStein installment, I won't be writing about that.  For this post, I'll be looking back to a fantastic "Barrel Opening Festival" I went to a couple weeks ago.

Oh, right.  And that earthquake thing.  Let's get that out of the way first.

There it is.  The earthquake.  I'm one of the pale yellowy dots, in the upper middle-ish part of the southern island, SW of the red "X."  It was a 6.3 on the Richter scale, happening at 2:06 in the morning on March 14th.  And it scared the absolute CRAP out of me.  Though, to be honest, I'm not sure which scared me most; the actual shaking of my house or the banshee wail of my cell phone's emergency alarm.  There was a squealing siren sound, then a Japanese voice shouting, "Jishin desu, jishin desu!"  (It's an earthquake, it's an earthquake!)  Seriously.  That's a g#%@mn terrifying way to wake up.

It is pretty cool, though, that the P-wave triggered seismic alarm system gave me a few seconds warning, so that I could scramble to my "safe spot" just as the larger S-wave earthquake actually struck.  That's some impressive technology.  We're living in the future!  (O_o)

The earthquake wasn't a bad one, though, even if it creeped me out quite a bit. (I mean, I'm from the upper and middle Midwest.  Aside from the typically quiet "New Madrid" fault, we're about as far from any seismic activity as you can get.)  There were only a handful of injuries, minor damages, and no tsunami.  Whew.

Anyway.  Back to the topic at hand: The Oga Shozu Barrel Opening Festival!

So, as I've mentioned before, there's a sake brewery in my town.  It's called Oga Shozu.  Twice a year, they open their doors to the public and hold a sake festival inside the brewery grounds.  It's a great big party and and an excuse to try a variety of delicious, locally-crafted alcohol.

Approaching the brewery complex proper, I found that the typically drab alley had been decorated for the event with dozens and dozens of old Futsukaichi-area photographs.  It was cool to see the brewery (which has been in operation since the flippin' 1600's) take such pride in their community.

One of three photography displays.

One of my favorites: A very old Nishitetsu bus photo.

Here's the back-entrance to the brewery, which became the front-entrance for the festival.  The blue banner shows the name of the company, in stylized kanji.

Step right up for sake! 

Once inside, I paid an absurdly small fee (about $1.00, American) and got a commemorative sake cup (seen below).  Patrons walked between stalls, sampling dozens of different products made by the brewery.  Some were shochu (a harder liquor, popular in Kyushu) and some were Nihon-shu (what we Americans typically call sake).  My favorites were 1.) a yuzu-flavored Nihon-shu, an Asian citrus which has a tartness similar to a grapefruit, and 2.) this green, almost sludgy liquid which had a flavor that I can only describe as a sake bomb which exploded in an apple fritter.  Surprisingly delicious.

Here are some photo highlights from my walk around the festival.

I'll put you to good use, friend. 

Crowded, but friendly.

Inside the brewery building.

Other festival-goers
getting their sake on.

A brewery banner, with a
tank in the background.

A lovely day for drinking with strangers.
A lot of strangers.

Yeah.  Did I mention it was crowded?

Mochi-making display!
SPOILER ALERT: I ate some
and it was delicious.

Below, you'll see one of the more... interesting sake I tasted.  The bottle seems pretty cool, right?  The hornet on the label and all.  I figured, "Oh, okay.  It's strong.  It's got sting.  Like a hornet."  I reached out with my empty cup in both hands, the Japanese gesture for, "More alcohol please!"

The cool looking bottle, in all it's glory.

The vendor started to pour, then paused.  He asked me a question.  I said I didn't understand.  He asked me again, a little slower.  This time, I caught the words "allergy" and "danger."  I tilted my head in confusion, so he held up the bottle and shook it gently.

Five giant Asian hornet corpses swirled about in the liquor.  "Ah," I thought,  "So. The label is a bit more literal than I'd previously imagined."  But, with my cup already extended and my whole "I'm in another country, just go with it" attitude already engaged, I figured I might as well.  I raised my cup and downed my shochu, receiving approving grins from the row of vendors.

YOLO, as the kids say.

All in all, it was a great event.  It's always fun to get out and enjoy the nice spring weather in my lovely little Chikushino.  And, hey, if happens to align with the chance to take a bunch of shots with friendly, tipsy neighbors... all the better.

Thanks for reading, everyone!  Hope you have a wonderful week, wherever you are in the world.  And don't forget to feed the fish!

WR

Kabuki & Kimono. (Just not at the same time.)

Hello again, readers!

WR here.  It's been a busy few weeks for me, what with the wrapping up of classes and the launching of mid-term classes and the ceremonies and the graduations and the tearful goodbyes and the entrance exams and the university results and the enkai and all of that.  But in the midst of that craziness, I had what I would consider to be a very "Japanese" week.

First, it started with a matinee Kabuki showing at the Hakata-za Theater in Fukuoka City.  It's a major professional house in the heart of the city, in the lively Nakasu-Kawabata area.  I'd never been inside before, nor had I seen a Kabuki play, so I was suuuuuuper excited.

One of the flags out front.

Promo Posters, year by year.

Once I got inside the building and past the ticket-takers, I took several flights up to find a crazy array of specialty shops.  These ranged the gamut, from stores selling expensive, handmade bags, to stands selling Hakata nick-knacks.  Sweet-treat bakery kiosks next to lavish jewelry stores.  Kimono accessories across from a cramped row of bento-box vendors.  (The pictures below don't really do it justice, as those areas were so crowded that it was difficult to get a good shot, but I think you can get a sense.)  It was essentially 2 ~ 3 floors of shops like this.  Insane.

So, I did a little shopping, bought myself a cute folder and a kabuki-themed furoshiki, and then made my way up to the top-most balcony (my seat).  Outside of the main theater space, there was a schedule of the day's three plays.

Ta-daaaa!

As you can see, there's a rather long intermission between the first play and the second play.  I was shocked when, the moment the house lights came up and the applause died down, I heard a collective plastic crackle as everyone in the room opened up their bento and started eating their lunch.  Right there, in the seats.   As an American theater-goer / theater-maker, who's been personally flayed by stage managers in the past for having even a well-sealed bottle of soda in a rehearsal space, I was pretty flabbergasted to see all that food flying about.  Still, I joined in the collective feast, only in my less classy way; a tuna-mayo onigiri from Family Mart and some cheddar almond crackers.  What can I say?  I'm claaaassy.

Anyway.  Here are two shots of the interior.  It's really a lovely space, and I adore the long, traditional walkway along the left side.  It made for some incredible, dramatic entrances.

For now, I'll skip the story about the sweet but semi-crazy man who sat next to me, bought me crackers, but then told me "I was being impolite" (in Japanese) when I tried to share with him, kept asking me, "Where is your husband?" (in Japanese) over and over, kept apologizing to me that his country doesn't have enough English (in Japanese) for someone like me, and then offered to walk me home (in Japanese) because I probably couldn't understand any Japanese and I was all alone in a big city.  Right.

But, overall, the shows were great.  Beautiful and whimsical, stark and surprisingly funny, bittersweet and full of longing, rich with texture and subtlety.  And, really, c'mon.  Only in Kabuki can you have a scene with a dozen on-stage decapitations that's hilarious.

So.  Fast forward a few days.  I went to a lovely onsen on the Hakata wharf with a couple friends.  It was delightful and relaxing and no, I don't have a single photo.  It's an onsen.  Everyone's naked.  Of course I didn't take pictures.

Fast forward a few more days.  I bought a kimono.  (Pause) Yes, really.

That's me, in my school's tea ceremony room.  We had a practice fitting session the day before graduation (the day before I wore the outfit in earnest, you might say).  Isn't it puuuuurdy?  Here's the kimono and the undergarment kimono, hanging up.

Below, you can see me in the both kimono configurations.  First, you can see what I wore to the graduation ceremony.  There's a different obi (belt) and a hakama (ceremonial over-skirt) over the top.  It is *the* traditional look for graduations, some likening it to a graduation robe in American ceremonies.  I didn't buy this hakama, though I think it's beautiful.  Instead I rented it for one week.  The second photo is the outfit I wore to the evening work enkai.  It's a more traditional kimono look.

Ceremony outfit.

After-ceremony outfit.

Before you ask.... No, dear God no.  I did not put this on by myself.  I had help from an amazing, kimono-savvy teacher who basically did absolutely everything for me.  It's easy to think, seeing the perfectly draped, beautiful kimono above that it's a simple process.  But it's not.  Here are all the straps and strings and belts and loops that keep a kimono looking nice.

And here's a picture of the whole shebang.  With description.

From left to right:

1.) Kimono Under-dress-thing.

2.)  Kimono.

3.)  Obi.

4.)  White Tabi, those cute toe socks.

5.)  The towel that was wrapped around my waist, to make it fuller underneath the obi.

6.)  The whatever-it's-called stomach plate, making a smooth firm surface to tie the obi against.

7.)  Wrap 1 (pink), for securing some of the many kimono folds.

8.)  Wrap 2 (blue), same thing but different place.

9.)  Clip 1 (dark pink), for keeping the kimono width correct and the front to back folds in the right place.

10.)  Clip 2 (light pink), same thing but different place.

11.)  Cloth bands, for securing the first waist fold of the kimono.

12.)  Decorative yellow sash.

13.)  Decorative orange and green rope.

Not shown, but worn:  My yoga pants, underwear, sports bra, sports tank (all of which I wore underneath), my white shawl (which I wore over the top, when outside), and my surprisingly comfortable and cute geta shoes.

Yeeeeeeah.  It's a lot of stuff.  A LOT.  But, the whole experience made for such a wonderful memory.  I felt beautiful and elegant, if a little out of place.  And my students absolutely ADORED it.  They were so SO so SO happy that I kept to my promise and wore a kimono for them.  I can't tell you how many pictures I took with squealing students.  It was great.  So, all in all, I think it was worth the stress and hassle and difficulty going up and down stairs.

That's it from me for this week!  Tune in next week for more of the Rowland-Weinstein, cross-Pacific adventures!  As always, thanks for reading and don't forget to feed the fish!

WR

Minnesnowta

Long time no type my digital compatriots! DW here,  to fill you in on the happenings here in the still chilly northlands.  In the epicly long time since you last heard from me I have been alternately studying my ass off (still trying to remember what the acronym SLP stands for :/) and freezing my nards off.  After 7 weeks of that there is very little left of me sub navel.  Fortunately the University of Minnesota is on "Spring" break for the next week, and I thought I would pounce on the opportunity to say hello, and hopefully start the ball rolling on regular posts again.  

Have the university name catching the snow just seemed profoundly appropriate.

This is where I have been spending most of my time.

The view out the first floor of Shevlin Hall as I wait for a client
to brave the snow for a session.

My courseload is fairly light.  But I've started seeing clients within the internal clinic, and between that and my TA position I was keeping busy for the first month and a half.  Things got more hectic in the past few weeks as my own midterms, grading responsibilities, and a new (and fabulous) practicum opportunity all came my way at the same time.  Now I just have to make the most of the week reprieve to get my feet under me for the push to the end of the semester.

When I'm not in class or clinic, I'm generally at home . . . preparing to be in class or clinic.

Are you noticing a theme with the landscape?

In truth, the weather has finally started to take turn for the better.  Last I heard we had lost about 16 inches of our snow cover . . . I even saw grass one place . . . in a hole someone dug in the snow.  And despite the temperatures and the hassles with parking, it has made for some beautiful views.

The cathedral in St. Paul, just down the street from my gym.

Makes for a pretty picture, just be glad you couldn't feel the wind-chill.

Otherwise things have fallen back into the place they were in last spring.  WR and I convene through the glories of the interwebs and I have small furry companions to harass me in real time.

I've even found the necessary items at local stores to have a little taste of Japan at my beck and call.

チキンカツカレー

おこのみやき！

That's pretty much all I have for the time being.  I'll probably have more news for you next time we talk, and who knows, maybe it won't be 8 weeks from now ;). 

For now, thanks for reading and don't forget to feed the fish!

DW